


Cardinals

by Broadway_trashdump



Category: Hamilton - Miranda, Hamilton - Miranda (Broadway Cast) RPF
Genre: Alex saves the day, Henry Laurens' A+ Parenting, M/M, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-18
Updated: 2020-09-18
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:13:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26520463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Broadway_trashdump/pseuds/Broadway_trashdump
Summary: Everything in John’s life has been succinctly planned out for him from conception, but not this. This is his.
Relationships: Alexander Hamilton/John Laurens
Comments: 10
Kudos: 82





	Cardinals

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hot_Damn_its_Kam](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hot_Damn_its_Kam/gifts).



> TW: suicidal idealization, a semi-attempt but not going through with it. Some heavy stuff, but a good ending. Stay safe my lil chickens <3
> 
> Title inspiration: Cardinals by The Wonder Years (listen to the acoustic version) 
> 
> Gifting this to kooks bc they loved it and thought I should post, this is for u homefry ily

The wind whipped around, tossing Johns hair from side to side. The November air was freezing, the coldest day of the year so far. The cold air and the fact that it was three AM dispelled any other pedestrians from crowding the walkway on the bridge. He was completely alone; just him, the wind, the rushing water of the River, and the edge of the bridge he stood on. 

Just how it always fucking was. 

Fuck. 

John watched his own shoes toe the line at the edge of the wall. 

what’s the hesitation you big fucking baby. You obviously wanted this, or you wouldn’t have taken the subway across town, climbed your stupid ass up here and wrote a whole letter to whoever gave enough of a fuck to claim your stupid fucking body. 

Johns not sure when they started, but tears are dripping off his chin onto his jacket as he stands there. This is his favorite jacket, actually. A pullover hoodie, black, with a small yellow heart hand embroidered by Laf for him. John actually wore all of his favorite clothing pieces, he wanted to look good for when they found his body. 

How did we end up here? Funny that you ask. John ended up here through a shitty hand dealt to him. It’s pretty common; dead mother, abusive father who beat him and reminded him he was nothing every day until he was 18 and ran to New York for college as fast as any plane could take him— It of course didn’t end there. Johns life was predetermined for him since his conception. His life wasn’t his own. Now a junior college student, doing a major he didn’t choose, in classes he didn’t choose for a degree he didn’t choose. This was the only thing that he has a say in, his death. 

So why was he still standing here? 

The cold air had sunken through his bones, his legs and arms are numb. He wonders who lafs new roommate would be, probably someone more fun than John. More normal. Someone laf will continue to be friends with long after college is over. 

Not someone like John, easily replaceable and forgotten. 

All John is is a footnote in the rest of the worlds stories. A background character to be forgotten as the main plot warms up. 

And he knows it. 

And he accepts it. 

Not everyone is going to change the world— fuck, not everyone is going to be remembered. 

He is not going to be remembered. 

And he accepts it. 

John checks his watch, it’s damn near 3:30 now, he may as well take the plunge before the hypothermia gets him first. 

As John goes to step off the edge and he can almost feel his worries melting away he is interrupted— 

“Uh hey, can you tell me how to get to the A street station?” 

John pulls his foot back onto the wall and looks down at the man standing next to him. He’s a smaller man, in a thick peacoat with long ebony hair pulled back into a low ponytail. John recognizes him as a kid from his Ethical Debates class. Someone John has caught himself looking at multiple times as he debates at the front, and John occupies the last seat in the last row of the lecture hall. Alex, right? 

John blinks a few times, almost sure he’s imagining this all happening. 

After a few minutes, and Alex continuing to wait for John to speak, he does. 

“Oh.. uh yeah— it’s u-uh...” John clears his throat “it’s two blocks up and one block East, you can’t miss it.” 

“Oh okay, thanks. Now why are you going to jump off this bridge? In 30 degree weather I might add.” 

John freezes— figuratively of course, because he is already quite literally frozen. 

“Get away from me.” Is the only reply John can formulate. 

“No, I don’t think I will— in fact.” Alex climbs up next to him and sheds his coat dropping it on the floor below them. “If you jump, I jump.” 

John looks over at Alex as if he has several heads, sprouting from several places on his body. 

“What are you doing!? Get down!” John hisses. 

“Not until you tell me why you’re up here and why you think something is so unfixable this is your only answer!” 

“You don’t even know me!” John yells, then winces. That was fucking rude John. 

“I do know you! You’re in my ethical debate class. You sit in the back row and doodle the entire time, your name is John.” Alex says, flinging his hands as if that was OBVIOUS and everyone knows who John is. 

John just stares at him, unsure what to say. 

So Alex continues 

“And I know Laf! Yeah I do. I’d know his embroidery skills anywhere. Hercules— his boyfriend is my best friend! And my roommate! And anytime Laf is over all he talks about is you— the incomparable John Laurens. And how much he loves you and cares about you. He knows you too.” 

John just looks down into the rushing water below him. His tears have long dried but the bubble in his throat is new 

“Please, please just get down John. Come with me. We can talk somewhere quieter.” Alex reaches his hand out to John, it’s shaking, but only slightly. 

That’s not the point. 

The point is that John is here to do something, the only thing he has the power to do! This is HIS choice and some pretty boy from his stupid class isn’t gonna change that. 

“You know, there’s a famous quote about how there’s someone out there for everyone— or some bullshit like that. It isn’t true. Some people are meant to lead horrible, shitty, terrible lives. And I’m one of them. This is the only thing I’ve ever done and decided on for myself, Alex. Just leave me alone.” 

The wind is whipping his hair out of his face once again, and he almost doesn’t hear Alex’s response. 

“You know my name?” 

John looks up at him from the rushing waters 

“Of course I know your name, you’re Alexander Hamilton. Washington’s protege, Star of the debate team— all that jazz. Why?” 

Alex considers for a moment— “because I didn’t think I was important enough to be remembered.” 

Alex just shakes his head and sticks his hand out again 

“Please John, just come with me. Please.” 

“No. I’m meant to be here. This is the one thing I can control.” John states, ignoring Alex’s hand again. “Why are you even out here so late at night?” 

“Right place at the right time, right? I was meant to be here too. To get you to come with me. Please.” Alex says, his hand unwavering. The pleading look in his eyes burns into Johns, and when he looks away it burns into his skin. 

Before John can stop himself he grabs Alex’s hand, and before John can react Alex pulls John down off of the wall and wraps his arms around John. 

And before John can stop himself again he’s hugging back, and crying softly into Alex’s neck. 

After a few minutes, or a few hours— John can’t tell— they let go of each other and Alex picks up his coat off of the ground. 

“Let’s go get some coffee, there’s a 24 hour diner up the block. You’re freezing.” Alex says as he begins to lead the way, grabbing Johns wrist softly. 

————— 

ten minutes later, John finds himself sitting in a booth of an old diner and a coffee in his hands restoring the heat to his body. 

“I called Laf.” Alex says as he slides back into the booth. “I didn’t tell him anything. But he said he was worried about you.” 

John just nods, shock deep in his brain. He was worried about you, idiot. 

Within ten minutes of idle chat, laf slid into the booth instantly flirting around John, checking every inch of him for harm. 

“Mom amie you scared me, I was so worried. Where did you go so late?” laf says, looking deep into Johns eyes. And when John focused on him, he could see the worry, he could see the sleep still crowding Lafs eyes— he was probably up waiting for John. 

And if John had— done that— you know, Laf would still be waiting. 

Maybe Laf did care. 

John then looked to Alex, who was waiting for John to tell Laf. 

John just sighed and turned to Laf again. 

“I was at the bridge.” 

That’s all John had to say, or all John could’ve said, because he began to cry. 

Not just tears.  
full on sob. 

Instantly Lafs arms are around him, pulling him close, rocking him. John could feel Lafs tears falling onto his head. 

“I’m so sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Is all John could say over and over again as he cried. John didn’t even notice Alex step away from the table. Or the waitress step into the kitchen so they could have a private moment. 

After a few moments John calms down. It’s just laf and him, in the silence of the booth. 

“Why.” Was the only sound, laf asking why. “was it your father?” 

John sniffs and sits up, wiping his face on his sleeve “no, for once. I just— this is the only thing I can control. And I didn’t think anyone would care.” 

Laf raises a finger to object, but John stops him. 

“I know now that’s untrue.” 

Alex slides back into the booth carefully, not trying to disturb 

“And how is Alexander here?” Laf asks pointing to Alex 

“Oh I was walking back from the train station to the dorms.” Alex chips in, sipping his coffee. Alex feels shame rising in his throat, which he just pushes down with the coffee. This probably wouldn’t be the best time to explain that Alex was also there to end his suffering. Now, he doesn’t want to hear any bickering about how he stopped John. Alex’s suffering was different. And how could he let the man who crept into his dreams, the man he found himself staring at in debate, the man he pictured when he thought of date nights, or lazy Sunday's in bed with, kill himself? 

Laf speaks up again, “So you stopped him?” He asks from across the table

“well, yeah. I like him, I wasn’t gonna let him buy the barn.” Alex says shrugging. 

And something about the finality of his statement makes John think this is going to be the start of a beautiful friendship.


End file.
